


Silent Beginnings

by JacksWild



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Challenge fic, F/M, Healing, M/M, PTSD, Post War, Romance, Severus Snape Fest 2016, Severus Snape PoV, Slow Burn, Snarry-A-Thon Challenge, will be explicit later on
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-03-07
Packaged: 2018-05-21 01:13:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6032712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JacksWild/pseuds/JacksWild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In all things there are beginnings, middles, and ends. For some, there are chances at multiple beginnings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is in honor of Alan Rickman. A more perfect Severus Snape, there could never be.

Ch. 1  
From Darkness Can Come Light

 

I can’t explain really the pain of feeling like you’ve done all you can, all you’ve ever been asked… and yet you’ve still a life to live on the other side. It isn’t a truly grateful feeling, the gift of life when you’ve already come to expect that death was the only thing waiting on the other side. No, instead life is there and one is unable to truly say no, without being able to admit that they had lived in fear of the dark whilst accepting its eventuality as fact. 

I hadn’t expected life, to be honest I hadn’t expected much on the other side of the war, mostly darkness, and the abstract sense of finally being free. The darkness that had always followed me, having been cleansed with a new darkness, a darkness that was pure and clean and not shadowed by the fear and hate that had marred my life. 

I wasn’t one to look beyond, the intermittent tingle of awareness that I would get in the here and now, always reminded me that the place for the future was set for those that were golden, and light and true. I would never be one of those things, let alone all three. The other side just wasn’t there for me. 

So when I woke up on the other side, in a warm bed, with flowers and balloons and cards, all tokens of thanks for things that had been private for more years than I could count… well, one wouldn’t be surprised to find me in shock. A small fission of fear that raced down my spine and settled in my lower back, to be mirrored on my face. 

But there I was. 

It had been almost three months, when that fateful night occurred. Where Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived, was able to live a Second time and defeated the Dark Lord once and for all. It was on that fated night that my destiny, I thought, had been chosen. I was to die at the sting and burn of that atrocity of a beast, Nagini. To be felled by such a beast wasn’t what I was more appalled at, but merely that I hadn’t seen this eventuality as a possible cause of death. I had always assumed that Voldemort would have killed me himself, death at the latter end of another Cruciatus, or possibly one twitch of his hand and a snap of my neck; but never that damnable snake. 

It was three months later that I finally opened my eyes, the sun shining through the clean and clear windows of the private room in the upper most floor of St. Mungos, the private wing facilitated by the proceeds that Harry Potter had provided in a trust that was there for the sole purpose of my health and wellness. I wasn’t made aware of this, not at first… but the truth always has a way of finding the light. 

It was while I was laying in this bed a few days later that I was hit with the assault of news that had a frustrating tendency for accuracy, on the front page of the Prophet. There had been a picture of Harry Potter, a tailored suit and trimmed hair, sharp spectacles and a solemn look to match, standing on the front steps of the entry foyer to the Ministry. The headline reading, 

“Boy Who Lived, Saves Those Most Hated.”  
The article read like a torrid story of gratitude and Gryffindor bravery. If I had been more lucid, I wouldn’t have burned the fist copy of that particular paper with my bare hands. As it was, I had to ask for three more copies before I made it all the way through the entire four-page article. 

On Monday August 24th, 2001 Harry James Potter stepped in front of the Wizengamot to tell a tale that was here-to-fore a mere impossibility. The Boy Who Lived Twice, defended and bore witness for Draco Scorpious Malfoy, and mother Narcissa Malfoy-Black. Whilst on the bench, The Saviour of the Wizarding World brought to light some of the darker times of the war, fragments of the story that the Wizarding population is thirsty to hear in more detail. 

With the addition of memories the Golden Boy shared himself, the two Malfoys’ found themselves on the receiving end of dismissals of charges and the only fine being levied was for part of the Hogwarts rebuilding fees and all the money that was garnered by Lucius Malfoy during the years of 1995- 2000 to be invested in one of the two options to be offered by Harry Potter himself. 

St. Mungos or The War Torn Wizarding Orphanage.

The Malfoys have declined to offer to the public which they will choose.

Harry Potter stood on the steps of the Ministry of Magic after the trial, and offered this in response to the question of whether he would stand witness for the trial against Lucius Malfoy.

“… I have nothing to say in regards to Malfoy the senior. I will not be attending the trial of any death eaters that willingly and knowingly caused harm to and would have perpetuated the harm of wizards and witches in the advise or counsel of Voldemort. I will not answer any further questions on this matter.”

One can only wonder then, why the Golden Boy Who Saved Us All, is paying for the room and ward of the very Death Eater that killed Albus Dumbledore; Severus Snape.

I couldn’t explain the confusion that lingered in the air around me, at my very same question. Or, why in the following weeks, the very Boy Who Missguidedly Did All The Right Things, never came to visit the patron of the room he was paying hand over fist for. It wasn’t that there was disappointment in not seeing or speaking to the Golden Child, but merely a lack of understanding that painted every minute of every hour that I had lain in that room. 

Every nurse that came in to the room that housed new flowers and cards and chocolates every morning, noon, and night; had been studiously kind, offering more than mere healing, sometimes reading to me when my eyes burned from the venom leaking out of my body. When the Minister of Magic, Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt, came to ask for my testimony under veritiserum, I was sure that it would have been the end of such long and drawn out waiting. 

I held my breath for what seemed like days, for the Aurors to come and drag me to Azkaban or to walk in with the eerie floating dark shrouded death bringers, the Dementors to me directly. 

The day never came. 

I didn’t realize that things were coming to a head, until the first day that I was denied a copy of the Prophet. I had rallied against the injustice of being told I was forbidden from reading any form of news, but was slightly mollified by the brand new copy of Potions Almanac that had been placed on my bed side table following a nap. 

Had I been more conscious of the outside world, I may have tried to do something foolish, as it was I was given potions supplies for first year potions and was told to practice moving my hands again to gain back more sensitive motor skills. 

On the eighth day of no news in my room, I was jolted awake by the sound of booming on the streets. It was the bolt of fear that lanced through my body that informed me of just how much post traumatic stress I had yet to fully acknowledge. The sweat that glistened on my forehead, the tremor in my body, and the pee that leaked unapologetically from beneath the sheets, were all tell tale signs to me that I was truly unprepared for the world that was beyond the walls of the hospital that housed me. 

It took two days to come down off that high of fear and anxiety, two days of mindless gnawing, chattering of teeth, angry outbursts to the nurses, and being tied to my bed twice after accidentally doing magic in the general direction of the windows. 

I slept for a week after that. 

The following morning after waking up, I found more potions supplies on the table that was set by the bed. I silently vowed to thank whoever thought of this part of the healing process. Needing to get my mind off of the ache inside of me. The ache of not knowing that I had never felt before, never expected to have, the ache that accompanied the knowledge that I was free. For now. 

The next two weeks followed in much the same manner, I would wake in the morning, eat something incredibly small, read my Potions texts, then I would start on a tediously dull first or second year potion. Lunch would be served around noon, and I would inevitably fall asleep around two in the afternoon. I would wake and work on whatever was needed for the potion that was currently steeping on the table, and would eat dinner not too long later. I would then accompany a nurse around the room or up the hall to the bay of windows that overlooked a picturesque garden, and would go back to my room, finishing the night off with my thighs and claves being massaged and a cup of tea and if I was able, I would read a bit more in my texts. 

Life was dull, to be sure… but it was life, and it was without danger. 

On the morning of October 1st, 2001 I was gently awakened by a soft nudge on my shoulder. The striking shock of fear that blew through my body, followed by a shout and a forceful if ill-advised punch was all that was able to be said of my first meeting with Harry Potter after the dark night of battle when last we had met. 

It took minutes before the black edges of blank fear cleared my eyes, when I realized that I was being gently if firmly held to the bed, and soft words were being whispered in a melodic fashion. It was unnerving how calming the spell was, and finding out it was from the very boy that was known for anger and depression, took all the more meaning and placed it in the words that were being uttered. 

 

“quies et tranquillitas, nihil vobis nocebit spirant profunde experietur quicquam mali tempus.”

“To what to I owe the honor?” it was the first time that I had spoken since I had opened my eyes the first day in the room. The rough, grating voice that echoed against the walls was a shock to my ears. Gone was the smooth, deep baritone that I had cultured for decades, and in its place was a gritty and low choke of sound; something to be expected of a blues singer in the 30’s and 40’s in America. 

“It is I that have the honor, Professor.” 

The firm voice that flowed from the young man that hovered above me was almost unrecognizable. The knowledge that the last time I had seen this particular man, was when I was sure that I was dying and he was going to be not long to follow, brought me to the most painful moment of awareness. 

The two of us, living when we were sure to die. There wasn’t room for past anger and aggression. There wasn’t room for grudges against long ago enemies and over due confirmation that we were both pawns in a bigger chess table. 

Yet we came out on top, we came out alive; when the players that had tried to play us into death were gone themselves.

I watched in mild fascination as the Student-turned-Man, finally let go of me and summoned a chair with his hand. No wand to be seen, no words uttered. It wasn’t a show of power, merely a calm dawning realization that Harry Potter was not only a man, but a powerful wizard as well. 

“You’ve been healing well.”

“I have. It is most tedious, and I am waiting for the other shoe to drop, but I have been healing just the same.”

“There will not be another shoe, Professor.”  
“How would I be able to know that? I have been unable to read the daily news.” The frustration that was seeping into my words was as unavoidable as it was true. 

“For that I am not sorry. You have the worst tendency to hurt your own chances of honor and respect. I wasn’t going to let you know about the trails until they were well and truly finished.”

I sat there, acknowledging the fledgling tingle of awareness marking my skin. The gooseflesh being the only outward sign that my body was flushed and waiting for the final say on how free I was to be, or when I was to be sentenced to death. 

“And now that it is finished?” The ache of uncertainty only a soft mar on my otherwise strong voice. 

“You are free.”

I will not ever be more grateful for the rare moment of maturity, when Potter looked the other way and let my tears fall. Allowing the silence in the room to be its own privacy, it’s own healing. The knowledge that I was to be a free man, was more than I was able to handle. The pent up anger, and pain, and fear; the longing to be a part of the world that I had been so swiftly shunned from for their sake, the hurt at knowing for most of my life that I would die at the hands of the enemy and never being allowed to tell the light that I was on their side… all these things were so raw in me that I was fully and completely unprepared for their release. 

I had never been a man to cry, never been a man to allow feelings to hold any weight or power over me. I had long since accepted that emotions were not going to be something I would ever attest myself too. 

I was wrong. 

The since of security that wrapped itself around me in those first few moments were something akin to a warm blanket around a broken and homeless kitten. I was completely unprepared for the release of emotions that had lain dormant for decades. 

I cannot relay how long it was that I sat there, crying silently but profusely in the soft light of morning with a man that I had treated ill for as long as I’d known him. But eventually, as all things do, the tears began to ebb. 

“The trail started on August 31st. After much deliberation it was clear that the Wizengamot would need to be purged of all pre-war and wartime supporters. That is what took the longest for us to start your trial. After weeks of deliberation, we cleared almost 30 seats, most of whom were either directly involved in, or related too the dark. We then carefully selected the seats to be refilled. Allowing that of the 30, 12 of them would be empty as no familial successor would be able to take the seat. Of the remaining 18, 9 of them were order members and 9 of them were relatives that had lived outside of the country for most of the war or all of it.”

I had never been more thoroughly impressed by the silent acknowledgment, that I would require all the story of the trial. As such, I sat there quiet, taking in all the information and adjusting my view of the Golden Trio. 

“After this, Ron and Arthur took time to speak to the Order. They explained in detail the entire story of what had taken place in the shrieking shack, and what you had done to provide me the missing pieces. Hermione took time to head back to Hogwarts, this being the hardest part. After weeks of reading about what the castle itself could do during war time, while we were on the hunt for horcruxes, we knew that the castle could be considered a witness for testimony. The hardest part was getting the castle to convey its knowledge. Hermione was persistent, and on August 12th, she was able to earn the trust of the castle and its knowledge was written for certified testimony on your behalf.”

I had never heard of such magic, and was momentarily taken aback. At this, I knew that I would need to start taking notes on all the parts of the story that would require further questioning. After struggling to focus on the magic required, I summoned a stack of parchment from the table across the room, along with ink and a quill. 

Potter was silent during the process. 

“Please continue.”

“Of course. After the testimony was able to be acquired it was rather simple from there. Albus’ portrait was in the headmasters’ office, he was demanding to be taken in for testimony as well. In addition to this, I was going to be standing witness and had your memories as a last resort if it was required.” He stopped and for the first time, looked me in the eyes. “They were not.” 

I shuddered at the intensity of the statement, understanding dawning slowly but thoroughly in my mind that Potter had tried to maintain as much privacy for me as could be managed. It was not to be forgotten. 

“On September 1st the trial took it’s first batch of witnesses. In all told and said, you had 38 witness that testified on your behalf, you had the additional witness of the castle, Albus, myself, and of Winky.” 

Winky’s name was written in ink on my parchment, alongside the testimony of the castle and the transcript of the trial.

“After 20 days of testimony on your behalf, the prosecutions chance was up. There were only two people that testified against you. Lucius Malfoy and Igor Karkaroff. Both of whom had trials coming up after yours, and were looking for deals. These two testimonies, and the prosecutions statements took 8 days. We then had a day off for deliberation and were called back yesterday for the ruling.”

I watched as Potters hands opened and a phial was summoned from his cloak that hung from the hook by the door. The silver liquid, a giveaway at the contents.

“The Wizengamot, in a paramount ruling, ruled you completely recused of all charges. In addition, all your holdings have been released and your fines have been lessoned to ½ of 1 percent of all costs of Hogwart’s rebuilding.”

I was shocked, but of course the Boy Who Lived, was always able to overachieve at making me feel out of my depth. 

“And lastly, on December 1st, you will accompany me, Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger, to the ball held in our honor. There you will be honored publically for this…”

I sat in horror at the box the floated from the cloak by the door, the dark purple and gold trim a tell tale giveaway at what was in the velvet container. It dropped softly to my lap, and it took what felt like years to open up the clasp and peer inside the dark confines of the Ministry engraved box. 

A gold medal attached to a black and purple silk cloth sat in the silk padding at the base of the box. The gold stamped with a cameo of Merlin, moving in the background of the words “1st Order”.

“I, I simply cannot…” The words of gratitude were choked back behind years of hate and distrust. I wasn’t able to say thank you without anxiety, and I loathed that fact.

“Of course.” Was the only response that came from Potter.

It simply wasn’t good enough.

“No. Damn it.” I looked up into the verdant green eyes of the only other person in the world that might know what I felt, as my fingers softly laid upon the cold metal in my lap. “Thank you.” 

There are hardly any other moments in my life that I can say, provided me with a feeling of warmth and comfort. But the look of sheer gratitude that was flashed at me, and the soft but brilliant smile that accompanied it, was there-to-fore one of the few times. 

“For you, I would do it all again.”

We sat there for minutes, possibly even hours, as the world that I had known adjusted around me. I was startled from my silent contemplations as Potter stood and brushed the wrinkles from his slacks. 

“You must be hungry. Should I call for a nurse?” 

I was stunned, the gentle ache that blossomed in my chest at the knowledge that this very well may be the last meeting with the child that had been the very bane of my existence resounded in my head. 

“Yes, yes… I am hungry. Please.”

I once again was shocked and pleased at the thoughtfulness that Potter had shown in this meeting, when I watched him brake down the wards that had been placed over the room, presumably whilst I had been asleep. They were layered, and sewn into them were silencing and safety charms. 

“I will be right back.” At this I watched the retreating back of the Boy Who Saved My Life.


	2. The Wonderment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As people are wont to do, they construe what they wish to see from what they have seen. Heartfelt moments, sometime though, find a sneaky way of mixing up all the other bulloxed nonesense...

Ch. 2  
The Wonderment

I had spent many more weeks in that infernal healing ward. To admit that I loved the ability to relax, to cope, to learn how to adjust would be appalling… no matter how true it would have been. But as time is want to do, it crept by. 

By late November I was able to walk unaided for the full distance of the ward, and often walked down to the garden. Where I was told I could pick any of the plants that would be good for potions. This was more than I had ever expected, as over just the span of time I had been healing, I had been able to get back most of my fine motor skills in my hands. There would be particularly bad days, where I couldn’t hold a spoon of ice, let alone phoenix wings, but those days thankfully were few and far between. 

It was on one of those trips down to the garden, when I stole glance at Potter speaking to one of the head healers. I had been crouching rather low in the midst of pruning some wood roses when I heard his low voice carry in the shrubbery. It wasn’t hard for me to lower myself farther until I was sitting with a clear view of the two men, but well hidden in the foliage. 

It was odd to me, the idea that Potter was a man now. Though he was no more than 18, his demeanor and his power spoke both for his maturity and his manner. I hadn’t looked at the boy much more than was necessary in his adolescent years, so to see the fine specimen that he had grown into was both unnerving and disconcerting. 

How does a child become a man so fast? I of course knew the answer; war. But war often didn’t make cheekbones more defined, it didn’t sharpen the jaw line, or cause the eyes to equally get harder and softer. War didn’t cause you to broaden your shoulders, or stand with a more confident air; and war most assuredly didn’t cause you to dress better. But all these things were clearly a part of the man that Potter had grown into. 

Gone was the air of forgetfulness and aggression; in their place was power and strength. 

I couldn’t hardly admit to myself, that the man I was peering at was a fine specimen of a man, let alone reconcile that he was the son of a man who was once an enemy.

I couldn’t hear the words that were flowing between the two wizards, to be honest I didn’t really want too. I knew the Healer that Potter was speaking with, and though he was a good Healer, he was far from a bright man. But the authority that which Potter spoke, was not lost on my peering eyes. Nor was the way Potter placed his hands on the shoulder of the Healer, or the subtle stroke of his thumb against the white cotton fabric of the cloak the other man was wearing. 

It took moments for me to adjust to what I was witnessing. My slightly ill used mind, forming the reasonable assumptions to the scene playing out in front of me. 

Potter smiling down at the other man. Potter brushing locks of his hair off his face, in a rather becoming fashion. Potter standing well within the comfortable distance of the other man. Potter putting his arm around the man and whispering something in his ear. The Healers blush, blooming becomingly on his cheeks.

Potter was queer. 

Harry Potter, the son of James and Lily Potter. The vanquisher of the Dark Lord and most powerful wizard alive, was queer. 

Unable to comfortably stare at the scene as it ended, I looked down at my hands. The knowledge that Potter was queer was not disgusting, nor did it well up some deep desire to use it to some advantage. No, it was merely that Potter was homosexual that struck a cord in me. Made my head ache with lack of information… the thoughts forming, becoming much to much of a headache; I swiftly shut them down. 

Potter might be queer, but it was most assuredly none of my concern. 

The young man hadn’t visited me once since that afternoon that we shared the news of my freedom and all the information that followed. He had stayed well into the afternoon, sharing all the information that he could on any questions that I had had, and had promised to send Hermione and Draco with any further information to questions that he just simply didn’t have a response for. But after the other two had come, much to the surprise of both myself and the staff; I hadn’t heard from the Boy Who Lived since. 

I had been allowed, once again to read the Prophet, and was offered other publications from newspapers around the globe. The potions in my room had steadily gotten higher and higher in level, until I was within my old standards, though the honesty of that couldn’t be tested until I was able to stand in my personal lab and build a potion up from scratch through all the levels until it was completed. 

I didn’t miss the young wizard. Even as I said it, I knew that strictly speaking that wasn’t true. Potter was the only other wizard alive that had any inclination of what it felt like in my head. The constant ache, and wonder… the desire for so long to be free, but the inability to move. The strong power within, that for years was dampened, only to be free without the fear and yet still held by my own brand of fear. 

I knew that Potter would understand, but years of isolation and dubious standing with the young man, left me at odds on how to approach him. I didn’t want a friendship, if for no other reason than I wasn’t accustomed to them. Albus and Lily having been my only two friends in my life and having been part of both of their deaths, I was sure it wouldn’t be prudent to try a third friend, least of all the Savior. 

But even without friendship, one could still converse with another; surely. 

The sigh that escaped my lips was purely selfish. I wanted company, I needed intellectual stimulation, and I desired to be free in the truest of fashion.

All of these things, were currently withheld from me. 

“Professor?”

I threw my eyes up, and took in the standing form of the very man that had been weighing my thoughts down. The green of his eyes, even more striking with the small chrome wire frames in front of them. 

“Potter, I didn’t notice you.” I could at least reasonably say that with minimal falsity. 

“I figured.” He said with a small smirk hanging on the left side of his mouth, accentuating the smallest dimple that was hidden at other times. 

I made to get up and was swiftly held close to the Boy Wonder, his body both lifting me and cradling me. Old habits die hard, as they should, “Let go. I am perfectly able to rise from a prone position on my own.” I grumbled, the anger that would have been there even a year ago, softened by the lack of real aggression. 

“And I am sure you can. Doesn’t mean I shouldn’t offer assistance.” Once again, I could hear the smirk that lingered around that stubble free mouth. 

“Prat.” The word was simple, and the strength of the epithet hidden behind little to no real anger. 

“If I am a prat, then you most assuredly are as well.”

I didn’t reply to this, as to do so would put me on a lower mental playing field than I currently wanted to be on. I stayed silent as Potter waved his hand and all of the tools, and the clippings situated themselves and floated in front of us, and as he held me still closer and guided me to my room. 

“How are you doing, Sir?”

I almost said the truth, that I was fine and could bloody be well left alone. However, the idea that Potter was here, and that he had at the very least come to see me as a by product of another visit settled well within me. I had been so very bored with my own admittedly dismal thoughts the past weeks. 

“I’m well enough.” The reply was as genuine as it was simple. I was well, and it was enough. It was certainly more than I had ever intended to have, and to be quite frank I didn’t know what I would be doing without this time. So the health part of it was purely secondary. 

“That is a Slytherin answer if I ever heard one. But I won’t force you to delve too deeply into how you are. I understand if I am not someone that you wish to have in your confidence.” 

There wasn’t a trace of guilt in his words, of that I could tell. It wasn’t as if the young man at my side was trying to garner sympathy or a rebuke in either regard. The simple problem came from the fact that he was wrong, and I was abashed at it. 

I wouldn’t mind having Potter in my confidence. 

“To what do I owe the visit?” I asked as I settled into one of the two wingbacks that accompanied the furniture in my hospital room. The blanket that was summoned and placed on my knees was thoughtful as it was unexpected, and once again I was oddly frustrated at how such a simple gesture would come from the child who had been the bane of most of my existence. 

“I wished to check in on you. I had been busy the last month with publicity and other mundane things such as school and plans. But as you are to be one of the Golden Trio- ah… well Gold and Silver Saviours as they now refer to us, I wanted to see if you were up for a bit of shopping.” 

The snort that came out into my tea cup was completely honest and damned if it didn’t make Potter a bit more endearing that he sounded as exasperated as I felt that I was now counted as part of the Saviour Trio of Hell. 

“Shopping? I do hope you are able to tell that I cannot abide crowds and will not stand for being touched by a gawking stranger.” 

“Yes, as I share your sentiments. Which is why Draco is going to Apparate us to his family’s tailor in the South of France. Apparently they are not as taken with us as the English Wizarding World is, and as such we should be well taken care of without the ‘indecency of disrespect’.” The smirk that rode the side of my mouth, was more a token of appreciation that apparently young Draco had been in Potters confidence; the man in font of me would have never made that sentence on his own, otherwise.

“Additionally, it will only be Ron, Draco, Hermione, you and I. As such, there will be the utmost privacy that can be afforded. I hope this will meet with your approval.” 

I could readily admit to myself that the idea was not altogether appalling, however sharing any space with the young Weasley and the Know-It-All was not pleasing; it had been some time since I had been properly fitted for robes. The fear of money slid in much the way that it had from a very young age, but the knowledge that was not destitute for the first time in nearly two decades, brought a modicum of relief. 

“Sir…”

The trepidation that permeated Potter’s voice was startling.

“Yes?” 

“I am not sure about how to approach certain topics with you. As such… well I, ah…. You’ll have to bear with me.”

He stayed resolutely quiet after this, and it took a moment to realize that he was waiting for some form of assurance. I could all but feel the groan well up within me at what I was supposed to be reassuring about. “I will try my utmost to not flay you for any disregard you may show; that is all that I can offer.”

The visible relief that drained from Potter was startling, if only I’d known my regard was important to the boy when he had been in school, I may have had a better handle on how to maneuver him. I was also well aware that my regard had not been important to him then, and understood the futility of such a desire. 

“Right, well…” 

I wasn’t going to speak again, if he wanted to search for his words before he spoke then I would let him. I wasn’t a Professor anymore, and as such was not in the mood to train others in the simple methods of holding a conversation. 

“At one point I was concerned that I would have to offer you some of my own personal funds…”

“Potter!” 

“Sir, do let me finish, this is possibly the most difficult conversation that I have yet to have with you. If I can get through then I can quite possibly not die of heart failure.”

The pleading entreaty was as delightful to hear as my ears could imagine. I had always secretly wondered what a begging Harry Potter would sound like, and even though he wasn’t begging for what I had always deeply hoped in the darkest moments; it was good enough. My smirk was unable to be hidden. 

“Do go on then.”

The audible sigh of relief was surprisingly adorable. I let that thought pass as quick as it came.

“Right, as I was… uh, saying. I was sure that at some point I would need to talk to you about money, and your future. If I hadn’t been able to convince the idiots the reign over the Wizengamot then I was sure that I would be able to eventually get you to agree to set you up somewhere safe and private, possibly on the Continent.” 

The thought had already occurred to me in the first few weeks, and as loath as I was to admit, it was good to hear that there would have been sense to the kind gesture that would have surely made me furious.

“As it is, I won’t be needing to do that.”

The red tint that was staining Potters cheeks was oddly becoming, I hadn’t expected to find the damned boy to be an attractive man; but finding him to be charming in his natural repose was becoming a frustration I was sure to be ashamed about in my future private moments. 

“Sir, as part of your Order of Merlin 1st Class, you must be aware that there are certain, ah… prizes that come with the honor.”

The thought hadn’t crossed my mind. I had honestly never delved deeply into the gifts that would be bestowed on those with honors, as it had never crossed my mind that it would be I that would be receiving one. And as I had no desire to learn of the posh life that would be showered on the Golden Boy, it wasn’t a pressing necessity to learn.

“Do go on.”

“Right, well… as hero to the Wizarding World, and ah… my honorable advisor; you’ve been rewarded a rather startling sum.” 

I watched as Potter fumbled with the words that would explain the rest of what was sure to come from the boys’ mouth in answer to my unasked questions.

“It was mentioned in the award meetings that there might be grumbles if the money would be afforded to you came from Ministry coffers. This was easily remedied by Hermione’s rather brilliant idea, to have you be the recipient of the funds that were taken from the Death Eaters. As the total sum that is to be afforded to you, would easily be met and with some left over for other charities, it would then be welcomed by the Wizarding population and regarded as less of a burden that it wasn’t going to Hogwarts or the Orphanage. In this case, the money has already been set up and placed within your vault at Gringott’s and is awaiting the official ceremony on Friday night to be given to you.”

I cannot in good conscience explain why I got so angry. There wasn’t really a reason, other than the mere thought of my receiving funds from the Death Eaters was grossly unwelcome. I wasn’t immediately aware of the sparking that was happening between my fingers, or the low hum of energy that was crackling around my body. But the look in Potters eyes told me that he was fully aware of the danger for which I presented. 

Admittedly, the foolish boy should have gone and run for an auror or at the very minimum a healer; but I can see that it was his innate Gryffindor bravery and possibly his own understanding of magic that kept him rooted firmly in place, ready for whatever happened. 

The look that shadowed his eyes was strange, as I felt the low thrum of anger roil deeply within me, I could see the fear and anger mirror almost eerily in his face. It was uncanny that the very thing that I was sure we shared, would be so volatile and so similar. 

“I do not wish to be a recipient of Death Eater money.” As much as I had tried to portray civility, all of the words were gritted through my teeth, pain, fury, and desperation vying for ledger. 

“Can you explain why?” 

“OF ALL THE IDIOTIC, IRRESPONSIBLE, TRULY REMARKABLY IGNORANT QUESTIONS TO ASK ME?” I thundered.

“Right, yes, I am a dunderhead. Completely ignorant. Stupid, sure… but the money is without any blood.”

“Halt your words. I do not want to discuss this.”

“No. I will not halt because you wish so deeply to allow yourself to be abused and left to deal with the mess. Every knut and galleon that is in your vaults has been measured with the utmost assurity that it is not blood money. No money that was made in or because of, Voldemort has been passed to you.” 

It took time for the words to settle in, time for the statements to worm their way through the utter anger that was consuming a fire within me. 

“Sir… I know you’ve been given no reason at all in our time of acquaintance to trust me. Believe me, it is something that I look forward to remedying… but I would never knowingly give you money that was earned doing something that would have been beneath you, as you are a hero of the Second Wizarding War… and a man who has saved my life more times than I can account.”

“I am not a Death Eater! You would think that after everything, even you would be able to understand that. To know somewhere within that miniscule tight brain of yours that I am not Dark. I am not evil.”

“I do, yes. I do know that.” 

“You surely must not. Why would you ever allow for such horrid money to be given to me? No! I will not allow it; I will be fine with my own. I am fine. Release me from this ‘honor’ at once!” the venom that was filled within my voice was part of the pain of being equated once more to the Dark.

The room was quiet, gone was the sparking and the thrum of magic that had been static in the air, gone was the good mood that had been between Potter and I; gone was the strength that I had, had before this conversation had begun, gone was the look of comfort that Potter had held when he had met me in the garden.

“Severus…”

I knew that he stopped because he had not been granted the permission to use my given name. But I hadn’t the strength to rile up to the bait. 

“I do not fear your darkness. I do not hold a grudge, or any semblance of hostility toward you. I would offer you promises, but I am keen enough to know when they would fall on hardened ears. But please hear me when I say this, and hear me well.”

I could feel the gaze penetrating my head, waiting for me to look back at him, waiting for me to see him and not the bodies, and blood, and darkness. It was with great pain that I brought myself back from the brink of memory to gaze at his astonishingly hard eyes. 

“You, Severus Tobias Snape, are the most honorable man to ever have made my acquaintance. I have fumbled my way through every part of life, and every good choice I made, was only because you were there to save me after every bad. I lived through many harmful misadventures because you, through an obligation to my mother and not to me and in spite of my father, saved me. I cannot be who I am, would not be who I am, if it hadn’t been for your exasperating need to keep me astonishingly alive. This I can with the utmost surety. You are the reason that I made it to the point, where I defeated the Dark Lord. You are the reason the Boy Who Lived, lived time and time again until he was ready to be sacrificed on the alter of duty. I will not stand idly by, while you are laboring under some misconception that I am not fully aware of the time and commitment that you placed in my regard to keep my arse alive.” There was the briefest of pauses where I had almost opened my mouth to retort, when I was cut off once again by the man across from me. 

“I had planned to do that a little later in life, possibly the first anniversary of the war. But as this seems like the most prudent time, well… What I am about to say, I say with complete understanding and with no coercion. I freely admit to the knowledge of contractual obligations and relay that I am truly and unabashedly willing to state what is honor bound in me to do so.” 

“Potter,”

“Severus Tobias Snape, Heir to the Line of Prince, and Saviour to the Wizarding World. I, Harry James Potter hereby admit to and contractually enter into, a Life Debt. To be honored in any regard by one Severus Tobias Snape. I will live within all means and manner to provide myself to this Debt and should the time come that it will be relinquished the only stipulation that I place within shall be, that the manner of Debt be only met when and if I meet the manner of Debt due.”

The power to speak was irrationally taken from me. The magic in the room was already working, and I was without any say in what was about to take place. The way in which Potter had worded his Life Debt was too binding, contractually, it was sound. Anger was an emotion that I was sure I had left behind, in those dying moments when I thought that should the impossible happen and I lived. But now, I was sure that anger would be as much a part of this life as it had been in the last, and for lack of a better target, the blast Boy Who Lived to Bother My Every Nerve, would be it. 

White tendrils of light sprang from within us both, this I had read about in the few times I had researched the many forms of Life Debts. This, was the only part that matched the research I had done. Followed shortly after the blinding iridescent light, were two equally black strikes of smoky light, they all intermingled four woven lines of magic creating a Celtic knot. Lastly, a green ball of magic, small enough to be a ring came from my very head, I felt the magic leave a cool tender caress on the skin above my eyes. I watched it float to the middle of the knot, and watched as an equally small ball of red magic left the heart of Potter across from me. It also entered in the middle of the knot, and they circled around one another, as if dancing for dominance. 

I can freely admit that magic in its most raw form is beautiful and utterly all consuming. I was completely taken in with the dance that those two balls of light played, swinging back and forth, around the knot, through the holes, and just out of the others reach. 

Until they stopped. I hadn’t realized that I was holding my breath until the red ball of magic came floating towards me. The knowledge of what was about to happen all but stole my breath again. A bit of Potter’s magic was being placed within me for ransom, as my own was being placed within him for duty. I watched as the ball of light sunk into my heart and closed my eyes rather involuntarily at the heat that came with it. I barely saw the green ball of my own magic, enter the head of the man across from me, allowing an internal chuckle at the look of shock that entered those eyes. For if Potter’s had been so very hot, I could only assume that mine had been equally cold. 

The knot tightened and then winked out. And with it all the animosity that I had been feeling. I was sure that it would come back, for with Potter there seemed no other way, but for now I was calm and I was more clear-minded than I had been.

“Give me time. I need time.” I asked, almost imploring the man to leave me be to feel the ramifications of all that had taken place. 

“Yes, of course.” He sat there for what seemed like hours more, before he stood. “I had also come here with the intention of relinquishing the one last thing in my possession that is completely and totally yours.” 

I watched in stunned horror, as Potter reached in his sport coat and pulled out a long slender velvet green sack. There was only one thing that would be contained within, and the tears that swam in my eyes were as natural as they were unavoidable. 

“Your wand, Sir.” He didn’t make to hand it to me, for this I am sure because we both feared any connection just yet. But he placed it just on the top of the blanket in my lap, and left with no more a word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love how this is going. I tried to fit in all the challenges that I got and would love to have more. This story was going one place, and now its just slightly turned off course, and I'll be damned if I don't like it a little to not know where the story will take me. Please again, provide me some challenges for my next chapter. If everyone is okay with word lengths in this, than that is great! If you want to chapters to be shorter or longer, that can also be considered a challenge. (Shorter chapters are easier by far.) I love writing this pair, and would love to create an adventure we all can all go on with them! As always, comments and kudos are welcome and requested. My heart is happy with knowledge that I am not writing to a void! 3


	3. A Suit & Tie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A life is made up of moments, it takes a strong person and an eye for detail to notice the moments that matter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do hope you like this chapter, I know there are some sad moments, or possibly awkward. But as that is what I am feeling this week, then that is what I offer.

Ch. 3  
A Suit and Tie

 

I hadn’t thought about the original proposition that Potter had made me, after he left. Originally, it was because I was exhausted. Life Debts are generally magically depleting spells that bind two souls together in an attempt for the life forces to work out the Debt on their own. 

This one was different. My exhaustion wasn’t all consuming. It was more that I was tired from being up for so long. I could feel Potters magic working inside my own. It was as disconcerting as it was annoying.

I had summoned one of my nurses’ post haste and requested for Spell and Debting literature from the Wizarding Library in Diagon Alley, after the woman left I collapsed into my bed and sank into a deep but surprisingly nightmare-free sleep. 

The next morning when I woke, I was immediately told that I had a visitor. After taking care of my morning ablutions, I accepted them. Draco Malfoy was long and lean, the years of war and family and friend abuse had sharpened his cheeks to points, his eyes both cunning and dull, and his mouth perpetually in a scowl. He had the decency to stop using so much product in his hair, and as such had it in a new fashion of shaved at the sides and more up in a pompadour in the middle, it was surprisingly feminine and masculine at the same time, and worked well to smooth out the angles elsewhere. 

“Severus, you have been requested to visit my tailor. I have been informed that you have declined.” 

After more than three decades of knowing his father, I was more than aware of when I was being silently rebuked and equally silently ordered. The first impressed me, the second did not. 

“I have not declined; I simply do not feel that I want to do this tete-on-tete with a horde of people.” I was referring to the Golden Trio, it was far too soon for me to see Potter. I simply didn’t know how I felt about the entire mess that had happened yesterday. 

“Potter explained that it might be better if they went at a separate time from you, as such. They left at dawn this morning, and will be back within the hour. As such, I have been informed that as you will be accompanying the Trio to the ball tonight, you must be fitted for clothing.” 

I watched as Draco flicked off a bit of dust from his cuff, “I will be taking you to a tailor in Germany. That way you will not have to worry over much about the same tailor that worked on Potter, also working on you. In addition to this, Germany has additional privacy laws, that will allow me to ward us both in muggle public.” 

“That is acceptable.”   
I found that I was deeply saddened by the turn of events in Draco’s life, and as such was more than impressed with the man that was sitting beside my bed. 

“How are you fairing, Draco?” The question was sincere, as was the firm tone that requested no less than the truth. Malfoy senior would be in Azkaban for the rest of his life, and as such I was more than likely going to be placed in a position to help be a figure in Draco’s life. I intended to start right. 

“I am surprisingly well, considering the losses. As I have been completely absolved of wrong doing, it is up to me to clear the family name.” 

It didn’t take much to hear the pain and weakness in his voice, just as equally it didn’t take much more than basic human intelligence to hear that he didn’t wish to speak much on the topic at this juncture. 

“I am sure that if anyone can bring honor to the Malfoy name, it will be you.” I didn’t say bring back, as within the entire time I had known Malfoy Senior, I hadn’t seen honor in the family name. It, however, wouldn’t surprise me to see the youngest Malfoy to change that within his lifetime. 

“Potter is doing more than his fair share in making it easier for me to do so.” I watched the blonde move his hands in a soft echo of anxiety, tapping once then twice on his knee before stopping. “I’ve been rewarded an Order of Merlin Second Class. Not to mention that my mother has been awarded one as well.” 

I couldn’t help the smirk that leapt to my face, at the sound of utter torture and exasperation lacing my young guest’s words. “Seems that, that may be beneficial to you.” The thinly veiled humor not gone unnoticed by the rolling of the young mans eyes. 

“You find this humorous, but let me tell you that I would like nothing more than to disappear into the dark. Potter will not have it though. And let me tell you, he is more a force to be reckoned with, than I had ever really gave the idiot credit for in school.” 

I didn’t get a chance to say anything or agree, as Draco stood and brushed his hands down his slacks. 

“I will be back in an hour. I need to meet with Potter and the other two and then I will return. Please be ready.” 

I sat back for a moment as I watched Malfoy junior leave. It was surprising really to see the men that these boys had turned into. And to know that there was more, so much more to the world that I had been temporarily exiled from, hadn’t gone remiss. I had more and more questions about Potter, than I had answers. 

And I wasn’t sure when or if I truly wanted those answers. 

~~~~*~~~~

The Apparating was far harder than I had truly expected it to be. Side-along apparation was never an enjoyable experience to be sure, but to do it when I was still within the confines of healing and regulatory charms, made the entire endeavor even more of a painful option. 

It didn’t go unnoticed that Draco kept his hand at the lower part of my back, nor that he didn’t stray far from me the entire time we were on the sidewalk in muggle Berlin. I hadn’t really anticipated what it would feel like to be out of the hospital, let along in a bustling and bright city. It was reassuring to note that I didn’t have nearly as much anxiety as I had anticipated. But the low humming in the back of my head, warned that a headache was only so far away. 

It wasn’t long until we were standing in front of golden embossed doors to a relatively nondescript building. The glass doors framed in gold and set into a wall of black marble, the only indication that the establishment would be of upper class wealth, if nothing else. 

I was in detached interest as Draco brought his hand up to the glass and the glass turned a shade of opaque blue, then black, then white and the latch that was set unlocked and opened. 

“Purity check, a shame really. I wouldn’t mind to have brought Potter here.” I let any response I had, settle in the back of my mouth as I took in the quiet opulence of the store that we had entered. 

The black marble theme that had been on the outside, carried into the building. The floors had a soft glitter to the black marble, and the walls had built in shelving with black marble and inlet lighting. Each square couldn’t have been more than a foot in diameter and carried a shirt or a pair of glossy shoes. The tables that were on both sides of the walkway were large and dark. The oak, which should have been garish compared to the modern texture of the rest of the store, decidedly setting a multilayered tone to the entire feeling. 

The mannequins that wore what I assumed would be the suits that were for sale, changed hair and skin tone every few moments, allowing the viewer to see what the tones of the suit would do for each skin type and hair. 

I was unashamed in my slight discomfort. I hadn’t ever been one to shop in pure wealth. I allowed that I had always made to buy good pieces, but it was more a matter of time that the item would need to last, than looks. As such, my Victorian era style that I had adopted as a Potion Master, wasn’t just for a style but as well as the materials lasted.

“Lord Malfoy.” The man that had walked up was tall and slender. His shoulders pointed and his jaw firm. I stayed silent as the man didn’t look at me, and took the moment to test out his magic. After pushing out my own just a bit, I couldn’t detect any malevolence. 

“Delaney. Good of you to see us on such short notice. Here is my associate- Severus Snape, this is Delaney Lange. Delaney, we are looking for a muggle suit but it needs to be of the utmost quality. I was thinking about smoky black, or possibly charcoal grey.” 

“Yes, of course. I can see it… that hair would be perfectly offset with either color. Follow me, I will bring Mr. Snape to the beautician in the back to begin the cut and care.” 

I didn’t protest. I knew that it had been, well at this point, more than a year since my hair had been cut. I wouldn’t be sad to see it go, but I would request that they keep some of the length. It was the very least that I could keep for my own sanity. 

“I would like to work on finding something to allow movement. There is to be dancing at this ball…” 

I didn’t listen any farther as I was ushered into a spa in the back of the building. The blinding white lights that popped off at all four sides of the mirror and the steel and white, such a contrast to the dark and modern store front, kept me occupied. 

“Hello, Mr. Snape. My name is Arter Hahn, but please call me Art. I will be working with your hair and face for this evening.” I let myself be ushered to the tall leather chair that set in front of the mirror. 

“Is there anything you wish to request before I start to work my magic?” 

I let the smirk show but didn’t allow it to reach my eyes. The man was surely as cocky as his last name allowed for. “Please, I wish to keep some of the length. Possibly between my shoulder blades. Other than that, do as you wish.”

I relaxed back as much as I could, and allowed the man to touch me. Rather annoyed at how much I enjoyed the feeling of having the man toy with my hair, moving it around and pulling on it before he walked away and into another room that ran adjacent to the one I was in. I closed my eyes and tried to think about what the expectation should be for this evening. I wasn’t entirely sure that I was prepared for a full night of festivities, but I knew that I would be required to dance, I would be required to stand on stage, and Draco had informed me that I would be required to make a small speech of some kind or other when I was awarded my metal. 

My thoughts drifted to the money that I had been awarded. It had been too much to take in, of that I was sure. Allowing myself to think back on the matter, the anger that had been lashed out towards Potter had been more from the sheer abundance of what was being offered. I latched onto whatever I could to keep me from finding pleasure in the gift. It wouldn’t do to allow myself to feel secure… I never had. I didn’t know what to feel, but security, even when offered to me in the form of reward, money, and partnership (if that was what I could refer to the life debt), was starting to scare me more than I could about admit to myself. 

I would be remiss if I did not speak with Potter at the damned ball this evening. The sigh that escaped my lips, the only indication that I was heavy in my own thoughts. I couldn’t readily decide what I was more unprepared for, the public… or another moment with the young, powerful wizard that I currently was holding a debt for.

~~~~*~~~~

It was a total of 4 hours that I spent in the shop, from the grooming, the cut, the wash and the style, to the fitting and the trying on of multiple items… it wasn’t a surprise to find that I was bordering on famished and exhausted when Draco finally called the day a success and allowed me the gift of leaving. 

I expected to be brought back to St. Mungo’s and as such was shocked to find at the end of the Apparation that I was at the entrance of a posh foyer that I recognized. 

“I figured you would like some privacy, and maybe a chance to be out of that hospital room for the whole night. Was I wrong?” 

I could hear the hidden concern that Draco had made an error, and hurried to shake my head. It wasn’t that I was upset at not being taken back to the hospital, but more that the last time I had been at this manor, the Dark Lord was residing in the same walls and I had pledged to see to it that the wards to Hogwarts would fall. 

“No, no… I will be fine. Though, a glass of scotch would be welcome.” 

“Mazey.” I watched as the ancient elf popped softly into the entry way, “Yes, Master Malfoy?” 

“Provide Mr. Snape with a glass of scotch in the guest room. Also, prepare his clothing on the settee.” 

“Yes, Master Malfoy.” And the small creature popped away as silently as she had before. 

“I must go get prepared for this evening. We have,” Draco looked at his watch and back up, “just shy of an hour to get ready and leave. Mother should be meeting us here before we floo to the Ministry.” 

“Of course.”

“You know where your room is, do you require assistance up the stairs?” 

“No, I will be fine. Thank you.”

“It was nothing, Severus. I will meet you in forty minutes.”

I made my way up the two flights of stairs to my room in the guest wing. 

It was time to prepare for what was sure to be an interesting night. In one way or another. 

~~~~*~~~~

Narcissa was as beautiful as she had always been, if a little softer around the edges now that her controlling husband and the Dark Lord were not under her roof at all times. We didn’t say much, more out of polite understanding than anything else. After all, what do two people who had known each other longer than was comfortable to admit, and had both been equally controlled for nearly as long, say? Her touch on my cheek was more than I expected, and the mere closing of my eyes and leaning into the gentle touch was enough for the both of us. 

Two more tired people there may not have been, but as much… two more relieved people we were as well. Life would go on, and this time we both planned to make far better choices in all manner of it.

No words could relay that, no words needed to.

“You look dapper, Severus. I believe the grey was a good choice. Though I was concerned about the ribbon in your hair, I do admit that it gives you a certain touch of elegance.”

Narcissa’s hand moved away unhurriedly, leaving my cheek cooler for the lack of touch, but we noticed that Draco was giving us time to avoid any further interruption. 

“I do remember telling you, that I had been dressing myself for 41 years. Apparently, it may just now be registering for you.” 

He smiled and I found that an echo of a smile was on my lips as well. 

It seemed that we all were planning to enter the evening with as light a heart as possible.

“Ministry of Magic.”

The floo roared to life and Draco gave both his mother and I one more look before he walked through leaving us to follow. I allowed her to go first, so as to be with Draco on the other side, and took one more moment to align myself behind all my shields, took a breath, and stepped through.

The blinding lights and snapping of cameras was the first indication of just how many people were prepared for me on the other side. The second was the shouting for my attention, questions being thrown in my direction as though they were balls volleying for a net. 

The scowl that rode my features was more out of reaction than purpose, but I felt that it worked for both just the same. I looked for the Malfoys and the moment I found them, strode past the throng of vultures to their side, and walked into the grand ballroom that would house more than a thousand witches and wizards for the evening. 

I could hardly admit to myself that I was searching out the crowd for Potter, didn’t truly admit that there was a reason, other than to assure myself that the young wizard hadn’t left me to deal with the crowd alone. I noticed the the Red Headed Weasley of the trio, with his arm draped around the waist of the young Granger. They made a picture, to be sure. Her dress was royal purple and her hair was up in a twisted braid and bun, allowing for some of the hair to frame her face. They were surrounded by Hogwarts students and Weasley after red headed Weasley… I made a note to stay as far away from the family as was possible for the evening. 

But Potter was no where to be seen. 

“I must speak with Minister Kingsley. Mother, I believe he wished to speak with us both. Severus, will you be alright?” 

I wished to say ‘no’ but knew that this was the first step in many that would lead down the path of my new life. I needed to start standing on my own. 

“I will be fine. Go about your duties.” I nodded towards both of them and kissed Narcissa’s hand before they walked away. I took a deep breath and moved forward into the room. 

“Severus.”

My breath hitched, and my heart pounded. I hadn’t expected to have a reaction towards the dowager, but McGonagall did always have a way of making me feel small and child-like. 

“Minerva.” 

The silence was almost deafening. I didn’t know what to say, and as such was at a loss. The apologies that wanted to flow from my mouth, stopped up with the knowledge that I could never possibly make up for all the things that I had done. All the terror that I had allowed to take place, all the pain that I had caused. 

“I am sorry, Severus.” My head almost snapped, my neck twisting so quick to see her eyes, to make sure that there was mockery in them, as there was no other way that this witch of all of them, would be apologizing to me. 

“Minerva,”

“Severus, no. Damned it all to purgatory. I was so blind. So blind. Albus told me time and time again, to trust you. He railed at me, many times was I banned for days or weeks from his office because I would argue that you were too dark, that Voldemort had stolen you for sure, that Albus must have been wrong. And he refused to deal with my ‘insolence and blind bigotry’. And I owe you an apology that cannot be enough, but must be. I have watched you grow. I have watched you become a man. I have watched you weep, bleed, and burn. And towards the last few years, I allowed a small part of me to find pleasure in seeing you pay for the choices that you made.” 

I stared in utter awe. This powerful witch, a woman who by all rights, for a great many years had replaced my mother, the woman for whom I fled rather than fight because I couldn’t handle hurting her… apologizing to me. Her tears were as real as they were a salve to the cracks that lined my soul. 

“I am truly and completely sorry, Severus. I may not ever forgive myself, but I ask that you try to forgive me. I have loved you as a son for almost 30 years now, and I have been disappointed and proud of you in equal measure, as a mother would. And I cannot explain the pain of my shame.”

“Minerva,” My voice hitched and I took her hand, I had never in my entire life, been for outward displays. But this woman who had, for a great many years, replaced my mother, was crying for me, in front of me… it was too much. I embraced her, a hug for the first time in as long as I could remember. And the feeling was as awkward as it was warm. 

I closed my eyes, and didn’t allow the feeling of others in the room, break the moment that I was sure was going to be another in a long line of many that would be a turning point in this new life that I was living. 

“You’ve been a mother to me, for longer than my mother was my own. Forgiveness and apologies are all I can offer. Thank you.” I whispered in her ear. And heard her intake of breath and felt her body relax into my own. I hadn’t expected to find healing in the crowded ballroom this evening, but it seemed as in many things this week, that my expectations were tending to fall short of the mark. 

I opened my eyes and met the shouldering emerald pair that I had earlier been searching for. 

I didn’t take stock of the entire rest of the room, didn’t look at anything other than the eyes and the face of the man that was changing my world along with the rest of it. I nodded imperceptibly and felt another fission of a crack start to heal. The heat in the verdant green of those eyes, was matched only with compassion. 

I closed my eyes once more and made to let go of the shoulders I was embracing. 

“We have much to discuss.”

“We do, how about we set a time for tea. I am sure that Hogwarts could use a time to get used to you while she heals, Severus.”

“Then we shall work out a time.” 

I held her hand a moment more and then let go, and watched her turn and walk to what I assumed would be the toilets. I took a breath and allowed it to go once more. When I opened my eyes, the flash of green was all I saw before I turned and started for the back of the stage.

I simply couldn’t prepare for more emotion. I needed to be alone. 

~~~~*~~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well there you go. 
> 
> Our poor Severus. So much to feel, inside of a heart that has long since been boarded up against any feeling. 
> 
> Please comment and kudos, and as always I am on the search for challenges to fit into these chapters.


End file.
